


Friends Protect Each Other

by MaryLouLeach



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Family, Feels, Friendship, Gen, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryLouLeach/pseuds/MaryLouLeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John get's a little help from his friends. Friends are the family we get to choose. To John's surprise he is apart of one big dysfunctional family, but it works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Family Doctor

**CHAPTER1. THE FAMILY DOCTOR**

 

Mycroft took the incoming call recognizing the number flashing on his mobile. The British Government kept a steady gaze on his brother, now perched on a chair a rather expensive high backed leather chair in the Diogenes club. He started to scold his brother, really those shoes were muddy, the leather would be ruined.

A very wild eyed Sherlock Holmes searched the pictures of the recent murders all laid out on the expensive oriental carpet around the dark chair the consulting detective crouched in, stock still, without a blink he was searching for a link.  The younger Holmes made no sounds, in his hands he clutched  a bent hospital badge, occasionally he risked a quick look at it, and then back to the gruesome photographs.

          Mycroft had always wondered how it was that such a man like John Watson,  would find himself befriending the obsessive and erratic younger Holmes. Sherlock Holmes,  impatient, prone to tantrums and bouts of highly irritating rants and insults flung so indelicately at everyone in his presence.

The older Holmes often found himself trying to work out the puzzle that was John Watson. A soldier his file had said. Served his queen and country, would have climbed up rather quickly if that bullet had not retired the younger man.

          At first Mycroft thought of him unworthy of too much thought, John H. Watson wasn't very tall, he had sandy blond hair, an average build, well at their first encounter the Doctor had been thin still recovering from his war wound, now he had gained his muscle back.

It was on that first meeting the older Holmes would recive the first small peek of just how ordinary the Doctor wasn't. 

After studying the good Doctor over the years Mycroft noted how easy it was to read John's expressions. John was always so inquisitive or just passive no matter what mood Sherlock was in. Even when Mycroft's annoying little brother hurled thoughtless insults at the patient doctor, John wouldn't flinch he would only stand there almost as if at attention. Then he'd give a polite grin, it was his eyes, Mycroft discovered, that’s where the secret of John's true moods were hidden.

          Yes, John Watson, Captain John Watson that is, was easy to read but if you really looked into those sky blue eyes one would see so much more.

Those eyes  staid focused when Sherlock spouted out deductions, the detective unaware that those in the room couldn't keep up, leaving John to translate what was just said.

Warmth shone like summer morning through window blinds when Sherlock was being neglectful of his own nutritional needs or in a dark mood. And at times when Sherlock was being his usual obnoxious self there was a laughter not anger dancing in the debts of John's eyes. Sometimes Sherlock caught this and those around him where rewarded with a rarely seen smile one that reached the detectives eyes or a laugh. John could always make Sherlock laugh, even without trying.

         These simple facts made it very clear, Doctor John H. Watson, was far from ordinary, or average.

And to Mycroft's reliefe and sometimes disbelief, this man chose to stay with Sherlock, to live in the chaos of Sherlock's life, and that was their friendship in a nutshell really. The steadfast soldier, loyal, understanding, not at all slow, though not on the same level as either of the Holmes brothers, but the  good Doctor managed to keep up.

Impressive really, come to think of it,  John Watson kept the shared flat in some kind of organized working order. If Mycroft was a gambling man, he would bet that  John's bed  sheets were tucked to  regulation, and his room spotless everything in its place. Yes, John  was the perfect balance to Sherlock, keeping the self proclaimed sociopath anchored. And now without his anchor Mycroft feared his brother would be lost.

          More than once  that John Watson, had saved Sherlock from outside forces and on occasion from his self destructive tendencies.

No, never ordinary, that was for sure. This brought another sharp pang to the British Government's abdomen making him wonder over the feeling in the pit of his stomach, it could be the beginnings of another ulcer, instead of the heavy feeling of uncertainty over the missing Doctor.(surely it was another ulcer) He would have to have his Doctor-well he would speak to John when he was back on his feet. Mycroft had grown accustomed to the Doctor's sometimes abrasive bedside manner wen it came to taking care of oneself, even if a Doctor's opinion wasnt asked, John gave it. The Doctor could diagnose a man in a frighteningly similar way Sherlock made rapid deductive observations.

The man was unsettling when he went into Doctor mode, he could be kind and warm, Mycroft had the flu a few months past and John had shown up unannounced and went to work. The Government official was often too busy and never kept regular hours so making an appointment for stomach pain or just routine blood work wasnt in his schedule. Having a self appointed family Doctor around at all hours actually proved to be an advantage. Sure the government could afford the most expensive doctor's in any respective field, but John was the best and refused to be intimidated by the older Holmes, also disconcerting. 

Despite what his dear little brother had accused, Mycroft was sure to put his best men on this, making the Doctor's abduction high priority. The John was to be recovered alive, there was no other option.

          "The Doctors are linked, except John. John was convenient, walking home caught off guard they were desperate." Sherlock was mumbling to himself. _H,_ a smear of blood on the _ **H**  _ the sides of the name tag bent down, so the words on the name badge not bent was the H for Hamish his middle name and the tittle under it Doctor. John was clever, the murder case he'd told Lestrade that wasn't interesting enough, the two men found were doctors, seeming unlinked but that was because it was the first man that was the key. He was the Mafia Doctor, and the second doctor was as it turned out a gambling man with debts to the same mob that the other doctor had been known to work for. Patching up the injured gang members so not to arise suspicion. The third body only confirmed this, all three were in debt to the Capricio family. Not, good. Sherlock squeezed the name badge.

          Then his ears perked up, his brothers voice had dropped to a barely audible and the ginger haired man had turned his back to avoid drawing more attention to his phone conversation, shoulders seemed to tense, in fact the whole of Mycroft stiffened.

          "Where." Sherlock stood up now moving quickly in front of his brother, unable to think let alone produce a deduction. Instead the consulting detective's mind kept flashing images of the photographs depicting exactly how the Capricio family took care of those no longer of use to them.

"I had all known properties and clubs of the Capricio family in London searched, word was that several of the family members were shot in a weapons deal gone wrong, hence they needed a doctor seeing as the head of the family was wanted in 12 different countries as well as ours, he couldn't procure a doctor by normal methods. The  first three deceased doctors we found couldn't keep those injured alive and the head of the family a rather cold man goes by the nick name of **Don Macellaio.** "

" _ **The butcher**_." Sherlock felt sick.

"Our good doctor has some bad luck of all the people to kidnap him,-" Mycroft was glad he hadn't eaten yet, his stomach was threatening to make a scene.

          "No, we will find John before-What there's more, what are you not telling me Mycroft?" Sherlock was on his feet standing inches from his brother, dark grey eyes narrowed.

          "There is a mole in our department one in which we have just discovered and neutralized. " Mycroft met his brother's accusing eyes, maintaining an expression of detached boredom.

          "They know we are looking for him." Color drained from Sherlock's face,  and Mycroft only nodded in reply to this statement.

          "Where?"

          "They found his body in an alley not far from the docks, he took out two of his would be executioners before-"

          Sherlock went to collect his coat and scarf.

          "There's a car ready to-"

          "Which hospital did they take him?"

          "Barts-" Sherlock was already halfway out of the room, Mycroft maintaining a steady pace at his side.


	2. EXITS AND ENTRANCES

**CHAPTER 2. EXITS AND ENTRANCES**

             John peered out from the corner of the nearly destroyed old building, somehow he had separated from his squad, their was a maze of empty streets, debris from crumbling shelled out buildings, it all was so confusing. His heart pounded in his ears, he needed to find his bearings, the heat of the day threatened to pull out every bead of moisture from his body, even his eyes felt dry.

Then he saw him, a figure in black and grey fatigues, how was that possible, that wasn’t the standard issue for this particular area. And the idiot was walking, strutting really as if he hadn't a care in the world, the bullets and bombs exploding around him didn’t even phase the man. John swore under his breath, maybe it was another young man going into shell shock. He had only ever read about it, but this kid was going to get himself killed, well not while Captain Watson was on patrol.

Without further hesitation the Doctor dashed out, tackling the younger man just in time to avoid a snipers bullet sailing and whistle just over their heads.

Both men landed with a grunt, John tried to cover the taller, leaner body with his own. The firing ceased, most likely to allow the enemy to reload, John took the opening to scramble to his booted feet, his hands on the back of the younger soldier's armor, his only thought was to get the kid out of the line of fire. When he finally chanced a look back at the stranger,  he saw it wasnt a young private in fatigues-instead a pair of intense grey eyes stared up at him, there was a mess of dark curls midnight against the pallor of the young detectives face.

          "Sherlock?" John frowned, the heat of the sun on him, his own armor growing heavier, weighing down his aching shoulders. "What are you doing in-"

          "John. Is this Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock was wearing fatigues except they weren’t the usual army issue. On further inspection John noted the uniform Sherlock was wearing was a lot darker, a black and gray like a special ops, except “Where the hell is your vest?” John pushed the younger man into a fortified ditch just as shots sailed over their heads once more.

          “Don’t need one.” The younger man replied casually, “Is it always this hot?”  John squinted up at the sun.

          “It’s the desert Sherlock-wait. Why are you here?” John felt odd the enemy continued to shoot at him “Get down! You idiot!” John pushed Sherlock’s curly head down. “Where the hell is your helmet!?”

          “John this isn’t very comfortable.”

          “It’s a war zone it’s not supposed to be.” Captain Watson snapped.

          “Can we leave this place?” Sherlock nearly whined “It’s all so dull and depressing.”

          “No. We are stuck here until reinforcements come. I-“ John felt confused why was everything so hazy, his mind was trying to tell him something. Sherlock wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t even sure he was supposed to be here. Was this a dream? John tried to remember what he had been doing moments ago, except another explosion raining down sand and rocks cut any such thoughts short, he had to focus on the battle before him.

          Studying his surroundings, the small ditch empty of supplies, obviously someone had been there and vacated. He returned fire, noticing his friend wasn’t armed.

          “Where the hell is your weapon soldier?” Sherlock glanced around dumbly, and shrugged.

          “You didn’t give me one.”   John heard something like military trucks he dared a chance peek hoping it belonged to their side. Sweet relief flooded his veins.

          “Looks like the backup has arrived.” Sherlock only rolled his eyes.

          “Oh isnt it like Lestrade to come in at the last moment.” Sherlock ignored the sour look he received. “And what is Donovan doing here? John-really, Donovan?”

          Lestrade and several others were exiting the military vehicle with shouts and loud wepons fire. Finally everything was quiet, John pulled Sherlock out of the ditch.

          Sally gave a dark look as she approached her hair pinned back in a tight bun, making her features even more severe from under her beige helmet. She saluted John and scowled at Sherlock.

          “Captain. We’re here to collect you bring you back to base.” John returned the salute, his eyes on the silver haired Lestrade also wearing his proper gear. Sally looked fiercely at the dark haired man to John's right.

          John could hear Lestrade yelling into his radio, “we have him.” He looked over at the two. “Yeah, both of them.”

          “Oh tell my brother he can-“

          “Sherlock!” John elbowed him.

          “You can thank your brother we found the Doctor so soon!” Lestrade adjusted his helmet, John could see his stripes decorating Lestrade’s sleeve. A smile twisted his lips for some reason. “Come along Captain.” Lestrade gestured to the truck.

          “I would love to Captain." John found humor in this title, but it suited the DI, " Looking forward to a nice warm cuppa and maybe a comfortable bed.” He couldn't help but sound jovial.

          Doctor Watson couldn’t remember the ride to base, it felt like he was nudged into the back of the military truck and suddenly they were at camp.

          He jumped down relieved to be back on base, safe and sound. He thought to ask about his squad but his eyes fell on a woman with a clipboard wearing a lab coat and looking over several rows of body bags. Behind her a large  C-17 unloading medical ambulances and more supplies. He moved away from the parked truck ignoring the argument between Lestrade and Sherlock.

Why did it feel wrong, he took in the camp, regular tents, trucks, personnel, nothing out of place. Refocusing he neared the lady in the white coat, she held a tight expression on her face.  John couldn’t tell if it was due to the hot sun or the gruesome job at hand. The young woman wore the white coat over her fatigues, that can’t be right. Once again any further thoughts into it were cut short, he could hear the familiar jingle of metal, locating the source of the sound immediately.  She-the woman made quick notes on the clipboard, clutching in her small fist a fair amount of silver dog tags. Each one for a body transport pouch, wasnt that the technical term? Each pouch was a dead man or woman.

          “John those aren’t your fault.” Sherlock stepped closer.

          “Oh hello boys. How are you?” Molly asked brightly.

          “Molly?” John’s mouth felt so dry, what-how did Molly get there.

          “All done Molly?” Sherlock ignored the pleasantries never one for small talk.

          “Yeah.” She sighed. “I’ll be giving these to HQ.” She held up the tangle of tags. “You’ll know where I’ll be. Let me know if I can do anything else.” She tucked her clipboard under her arm and attempted a reassuring pat to John’s arm, causing him to flinch. “You’ll be alright. Just take it easy and rest some.” She whispered softly John thought her voice had a hint of worry.

“Don’t worry about me Molly. I’ll be ok.”

 Lestrade and Donovan stepped out of the small woman’s way as she passed. John thought it was odd to see Molly with hair in a regulation braid, sure she’d braided it before but never so tight and unforgiving and was the sun bleaching her hair a lighter color?

          He couldn’t help but stare  at the rows of bodies tucked into their temporary caskets of black nylon and vinyl, sealed with a tear resistant zipper.

          “I’ll never understand your sense of guilt John. Your culpability always confused me. Surely being a man of education you know that when one goes to war it is a natural outcome to return scarred in someway, emotionally or physically or in one of those.” Sherlock’s cool tone made John cringe he didn’t want to meet the emotionless eyes, “Those men and women were like you, they understood the contract they were entering into although one has no real view of war until they are an active participant.”

          “ They have family, wives, husbands, children mothers and fathers waiting for them Sherlock. They were alive once and I could have helped, who am I against all of that. Why do I get to live.“ John wasn't sure he said these words out loud or in his mind, both seemed to trade off.

          “How dare you say that John Watson. You are just as valuable a life-even more so in my eyes. If you had died here in the desert-“ Sherlock swallowed hard, John didn't meet his friends gray eyes, both men continued to stare intensely at the neat rows of body bags, all accounted for and unaccounted for, if that made sense.

“I do not know any of them John. And so I can not feign interest. They  passed through your life, passed under your hands as if carried away by a rivers strong current, briefly touched by your attempts to save them from the inevitable."

"Sherlock, I had no idea you were such a poet." John tried to change the subject, he didn't like the heavy feeling hanging over him like a brewing storm.

" I do however have personal knowledge of the ones you saved after the war, more than once and in so many different ways. They are all waiting for you to return from here. Really Doctor Watson how  you manage to collect the strangest assortment of acquaintances-or friends as you would say, it’s just offsetting. You should be a little more prejudiced. Some of these people are not only dull and boring, but they annoy me with their mere presence. They're all just a pathetic patchwork jumble of people with all sorts of broken pieces." Sherlock shook his head, the hard tone leaving his baritone voice.

"Yet, despite their difficulties socializing with each other, you somehow managed to fit these pieces together. In another life these people would never be more than passing acquaintances. You've made them-me more.  So let’s leave this depressing place and go home.”

  “That is a fine idea dear brother.” John jumped when had Mycroft shown up?  John motioned to salute standing at attention out of instinct catching the high rank insignia, Mycroft leaned on his umbrella slightly annoyed as Sherlock seized John’s wrist before he could finish the motion.

          “Don’t John-he’ll never let you live it down.” This all felt so off, especially the little heartfelt speech, Sherlock had given.

And now Mycroft was standing there with some odd look in his eyes, one John could never read but sensed the turmoil behind. Had something happened? Another frustrating sit down with uncooperative diplomats?

  “Mycroft-why are you here? It’s not usual for the king to come down from on high to mingle with the common peasants.”

  “Don’t be rude brother mine. I was merely checking on our dear Doctor.”

   “Our?” Sherlock spat the word out as if it were soaked in a bitter filth.

   “He was never one to share his things.” Mycroft spoke pointedly to John. He took a step past his brother, placing a firm hand on the Doctor’s shoulder.

    “Now Doctor don’t you think it’s time you wake up, before my brother wears a hole in the floor from pacing.”

    “Pacing?” John’s temples started to throb. Flashes of an alley, yelling, a man with a gun. Started to nag at the edges of memory, just out of reach.

          “Mycroft give the young man some room. He’ll be just fine.  Honestly and I’m the mother hen?” John stiffened, Mrs. Hudson was pushing forward, stepping out from behind the towering giant that was Mycroft Holmes, well in comparison to the small woman. To John’s surprise his landlady was wearing a crisp and clean white apron over a red dress, in the center of the apron was the very visible red cross. He had to smile at the white, nun like veil that cascaded over the small woman’s squared shoulders, she looked the part, perfectly. Even the tray she held in her hands seemingly out of place, but not really. To his pleasure he could smell the fresh brewed coffee and the warm tea mingling together from the Styrofoam cups neatly covering the tray.

          “I handle stress just fine thank you Mrs. Hudson, don’t you have something to clean or bake? Or whatever you do in times of crisis.” The older woman shook her head dismissively.

“I’m not your housekeeper.” She turned to smile gently at John, handing her tray to a very affronted Mycroft Holmes, “John dear. You take your time. Just rest, Doctor, rest.” Her soft, warm work worn hands, fragile in appearance but John could feel the strength in them as they gently squeezed his own hand, then cupping his face. “No rush dear, but if you don’t come around soon, well we wouldn’t want to disturb other patients when your flatmate starts shooting holes in these walls.” She released him slowly John heard the edge of worry in her teasing tones and he wanted to offer reassurance, but she was already taking her tray back, now making her way towards a group of faceless soldiers milling around, near the mess tent.

“Go on take a cup.” The smile very apparent in her voice.  John kicked himself for missing the opportunity to grab a coffee or tea, now very much aware of how dry his mouth was. 

“Harry. I should call her.” His voice sounded weak and distant, and where had this thought come from.

 “We’ve left her several messages. I’m sure she’ll be by soon.” John tried to concentrate on Mycroft’s words, but the drumming in his head increased.

 “I’ll deal with this John.” Sherlock growled, stalking off towards a group of tents. “And Mycroft don’t harass him, he’s been through enough.” He shouted over his shoulder.

John turned to the older Holmes, receiving a reassuring smile, alright that was definitely out of character. Mycroft didn't smile ever! In fact John was pretty sure Mycroft somehow had the nerves and tiny muscles required for such an expression removed surgically. At least that's what Sherlock had said once. Not much faith in that, he also said in the same breath Mycroft was a robot built by the government.

 “Wait! Sherlock! Don’t upset Harry-“ John's voice sounded terrible, he really should find a canteen, at least wet his lips, but the knowledge of his flatmate communicating with his older sister overcame the need for water. He tried again to call his friend back, his friend was ignoring him or just didn’t hear John's plea, most likely the first.

          “You know he does enjoy alienating your sister. Better her than me I say.” Mycroft had removed his hand from John’s shoulder. When had he put that there, was it for reassurance, definitely out of character.

   “Siblings.” John murmured in surrender.

          “I can relate.” Mycroft sighed heavily, shifting his weight, he was facing the younger man now, clearing his throat, “John I’m sorry.”

          “Oh, Mycroft he’s your brother not your fault he’s such an annoying prick. He does mean well most of the time. I think.” John grinned removing his helmet, it was giving him a headache, he thought absentmindedly.

          “No. John. Well yes, I’m sorry you’ve had to take on the responsibility of keeping my little brother out of trouble. But that isnt what I was referring to.” John tried to study the other man’s face, something was wrong, everything was wrong.

          “I-my men were a little late in locating you. Unfortunately one of the junior officers in my department managed to-“

          “It happens nothings infallible.” John offered a reassuring smile making the drumming in his head worse.

          “I want you to know I’ve taken care of him, and those who were responsible for this mess. I personally over saw the process.”

          The hard tone in the governments voice gave John chills.

“Mycroft I’m a big boy. I am not your responsibility-“  Things were becoming more and more clear, the desert was slipping away.

“You may think what you will Doctor Watson but as you say friends protect each other. If you would please wake up now, I could avoid more of this distasteful sentiment.”

        


	3. JUST A....

**CHAPTER 3. JUST A...**

  “John-“ Doctor Watson blinked, his headache more intense, gone was the desert air stifling suffocating, it was different here and the lights above weren't so harsh, just artificial. He blinked again hearing his name.

          “Ah, Doctor Watson there you are. Welcome back.” John felt the dream starting to fade from his memory, but he held on to an image of Mycroft as a General in a military dress uniform, holding an umbrella? What kind of drugs did they have him on.  “Just remain still Doctor, you’re fine.”

“Where-“ John groaned. “Dammit a hospital. What now?” his voice annoyingly hoarse . John cringed,  trying to rack his muddled brain for any reason he was here. Faintly, recalling an alley, the sound of water slapping the docs, struggles, nothing more came through the haze comfortably blanketing his thoughts.

“Why are you here?” John murmured, he thought the older man flinched and quickly tried to recover for his rudeness. “Sorry, I meant, is Sherlock laid up too? Everyone ok?” Mycroft held a bored look.

“I assure you all is well except your injuries. You know Doctor you do have a knack for getting into trouble. Even more so without my brother's help. After this debacle I'm considering implanting a locator chip. It might make my life easier. ” John couldn't decided if the British Government was joking, because the British Government never joked.

          “Not funny Mycroft.” John tried to recall yesterday, or last week, it hurt too much, he put a shaky hand to his head, well at least attempted to, white-hot pain shot up his arm causing him to hiss. His eyes glanced over the aching appendage, wrapped tightly in white sterile gauze.

          “Just a few stitches, lucky they found you when they did.” John thought Mycroft sounded annoyed,that and the British Government didn't believe in luck. A very commonly shared principal between the Holmes brothers.  “Do me a favor John will you pretend to be asleep when my brother gets back I fear he will be rather unreasonably put out to know my face was the first to greet you upon consciousness after three days of standing vigil.”

"Three days?" John groaned.

“Don’t be an idiot Mycroft, I am relieved John is awake only displeased that the poor man had to wake up to such a fright as the British Government looming over him. It’s enough to give me nightmares. Really John you would think he was some kind of General-the way he orders everyone about. And it wasn't vigil, some one had to insure the doctor was receiving proper care. Really Mycroft the people you employ. If that's the best the British Government can come up with then-  ”

          John caught the flicker of his dream and held back a laugh, unsure if it was wise to give in. Laughing he decided would hurt more, having no real idea on the extent of his injuries. Unfortunately, holding in a laugh proved to be just as bad. His Abdomen throbbed and he started to cough, an action resulting in blinding  waves of nausea, John clasped his eyes shut his breath short and treacherously painful. A sharp burning spider webbed from his chest throughout his body, and he could only clinch his jaw not trusting anything but an embarrassingly pathetic sob to escape, if he were to open his mouth. 

 “Alright! That’s it you two.” Mrs. Hudson entered now, John blinked away the pin pricks of black spots coloring his vision,  she was in her usual house dress, he almost expecting her to be wearing an old nurses uniform. “I warned you both. There is to be no arguing. John isn't well, so out you go.”

          “But-“both Holmes protested

          “Hush, take it out in the hall. Now.” both men moved to the door, passing a nervous doctor making his way into the room.

          “A little delayed Doctor. I would expect more of a timely response.” Mycroft snapped.

          “Sorry sir-I was just alerted by the nurse. And then the security in the hall-” The man's weak reply fell away under his employer's cold stare. A bone chilling feeling came over him every time he was subjected to this look, it made Doctor Royce feel like a medical student, a medical student caught sneaking into class late.

          "Figures you would hire incompetence.” Sherlock snorted, stepping out into the hall.

          “How are you dear.” Mrs. Hudson ignored the little scene playing out in the door way, instead she gently adjusted John’s blankets, pulling them up and tucking them firmly around him.

          “Confused.”

"Here dear, drink this. It'll make you feel better." the landlady, not to be confused for a housekeeper, pressed a straw against John's chapped lips. A straw sitting in the coolest of water, he thankfully drank the liquid down.  

“Confusion is  understandable Mister" Mrs. Hudson shot a hard glare at the young man speaking causing him to stammer "-I mean D- Doctor Watson.” John arched an eye brow, poor man was most likely bullied. It was hard to tell which Holmes it would have been. “ You gave us a bit of a scare. I ‘ve been informed quiet firmly that you are a competent Doctor so I wont waste your time, I’ll give you an inventory of injuries, my teams diagnosis and treatment plan. Of course as Mr. Holmes prearranged,  you have a final say on all and every action. Normally we treat a patient and keep them informed but it looks as if you will have an active role-“

          “Easy there. Doctor?"

          “Excuse me, Doctor Royce, Benjerman Royce.” the young man straightened a bit.

          “Alright Doctor Royce. I would shake your hand but it seems my right arm is bandaged, and I have an IV in the left. That and it hurts to move. I am a doctor as are you.    If you were hired by Mycroft which I’m guessing you were than you obviously are the best of the best and I am just an ex army doctor who works locum at the clinic. Alright. I have complete faith in your abilities. I only ask to be given the professional courtesy of a quick heads up when you're going to barrage me with tests. I also ask you to allow me to see the charts every once and a while.” Mrs. Hudson tutted now.

          “That’s not true Doctor, you are an excellent physician patched Sherlock up more than once, that young man is lucky to be alive half the trouble he gets himself into. Remember when he managed to get himself stabbed you had the good sense to call emergency, while he was just thinking you could plaster it up in the kitchen. Or when he didn’t say a thing after a bit of a struggle with one of those thugs you two are always perusing and if you hadn't checked then he could have died from the internal bleeding. Or that near drowning, and dont get me started on the accidental poisoning, it took a week to air out the flat, and I swear that gas stained the walls. That boy has such a death wish, not to mention half the sweet young policeman you’ve treated while some mad man has shot at you.”

          “Mrs Hudson-“ John tried to cut her off before she riled herself up. He also wondered how she would know who he treated in the Yard, it wasn’t like he bragged or spoke of it. And Shelrock wasn’t one to share or recall such minute details, he didn’t find such things significant. John was sure the man deleted the memories the minute they formed.

          “Oh, silly me dear going on when the young doctor has a job to do. I wonder if that sweet DI has been told yet, as often as he and the other officers stopped in the nurses were starting to think you were either a policeman yourself or a criminal. I should go check on Mycroft and Sherlock those two can get quite heated when under stress.” She excused herself.

          John gave the dark haired doctor an apologetic look. “Well Doctor sounds like you’ve had your hands full. So the younger Holmes is just a flatmate?” John looked up from the chart, his irritation apparent.

          “We aren't a couple if that’s-“

          “Oh, no sir. I was just, well we thought you were somehow related.”

          “Oh, god no. Could you imagine the Christmas dinners? No, just a flatmate.” 

          “You say **_just_** -“ Sherlock was striding in. “As if it’s just a crime, or just a lunar landing or just the bloody solar system which I'm told is important for reasons beyond me.” Sherlock fumed obviously still aggravated by whatever exchange the two brothers had in the hall he plopped down in a chair next to John's bed.

          “Sherlock you look a mess. Have you eaten?” John inspected his pale friend; a cold glare was the only reply. “S’what I thought. Alright get out.” Doctor Royce flinched, Sherlock started to protest. “Don’t you dare! You go get yourself something more than toast, you bring it back in here and sit there till it’s gone.”

          “I’m not a child John-“ Sherlock protested crossing his arms over his chest “And I’m not hungry.”

          “I don’t care if you feel hungry or not, you will get yourself some food or so help me I’ll get up out of this bed and drag you down to the cafeteria myself.”

          “You’re still injured-“ Sherlock scowled seeing the stubborn set of his friends jaw. “Fine!” he growled “Bloody Doctors and their silly demands-“ He whined on his way out.

          “I see you’re feeling like yourself again.” John took one look at Mycroft and sighed painfully, someone had put a pillow over his chest, most likely Mrs. Hudson, so John held it to help brace his sore abdominal muscles.

          “You Mycroft Holmes, when was the last time you had something more than one of Mrs. Hudson’s biscuits?” the tall man didn’t reply immediately.

          “Doctor-“ Mycroft didn't get to finish whatever it was he was about to say.

          “No-out! Or I’ll set Mrs. Hudson on you. You need to get yourself a sandwich from the look of you some rest. No doubt worrying about Sherlock who is worrying over my minor injuries hasn’t been easy. I wont have the British Government collapsing in the middle of some secret cabinet meeting from low blood sugar. Word would get out that I'm a rubbish Doctor. Go on-“

          “Doctor-“

          “Mrs. Hudson!” John called out, finding his voice, the older woman appeared so suddenly John wondered if she had been at the door the whole time.

          “What’s wrong dear?” she glared suspiciously at Doctor Royce and then Mycroft. “Is something the matter?”

          “Mrs. Hudson, are you aware that Mycroft hasn’t had a decent meal in three days.” The older Holmes started to protest, but Mrs. Hudson was already latching on to him.

          “Oh, you boys. Come along-“ Mycroft shot John a hard glare that would reduce any dictator or drug lord to a sniveling baby. Doctor Royce paled from it and it wasn’t even directed at him, but Doctor Watson only returned with an easy smile.

          “I’ve got a mum like that too. No matter how old you are, she can still make you feel like a misbehaving six year old, refusing to eat your greens. Your mum is a nice one. She’s been here every day to straighten your pillows and we have staff that does the housekeeping but she actually came in to dust. I didn’t have the heart to say anything, besides studies prove it’s good for patients to have a loved one talking to them while they are in a coma.”

          “Oh, she’s my landlady. She’d be the first to tell you she’s not our housekeeper. Or my mother.” John wondered at that, who addressed their mother by a surname? Maybe he shouldnt be treating John after all. THen again the Holmes family had proven they aren't your average family.

          “Land Lady? But-“

          “She is a force to reckon with, you should see what she does when you shoot holes in her walls or light her curtains on fire. I’d take a firm swat from my own mum over Mrs. Hudson’s lectures.”

The doctor frowned in bewilderment, “So you aren't related to her either. I just thought maybe she was remarried and that's why you called her Mrs. Hudson. At the very least I assumed maybe she was your aunt.”

“No.” John handed his chart back, John didnt feel bothered by the assumption, Mrs. Hudson did remind him of his dear Auntie Agnes. They would have definitely gotten on.

“So-let me get this straight. You are only a flatmate, only a tenant, only a friend and just a doctor?”

“That sounds about right.” John thought to himself he was a brother too, but Harry hadn't come around yet.

“And he listens to you? Mr. Holmes?”

“I’m the family doctor.” John’s heavy sigh was cut short by a wince.

“And everyone knows that only a fool argues with his doctor.” Sherlock’s baritone voice made Doctor Royce jump. Really what had the two Holmes brothers said to the poor man for him to be so  nervous.

          John leaned back into his pillows, he found his mobile on the tray just within reach, surprised it had been recovered at all. He thought he’d lost it somewhere on the street when he was kidnapped.

         Great,  the memories were slowly coming back, he cringed remembering the rather unpleasant part of the week that he’d been carved into. He looked over the recent texts, finding older ones from Sherlock growing more and more frantic. A couple  texts from Mycroft demanding to know why he wasn’t answering Sherlock’s texts. None were from Harry, she knew right? Well it was well enough that she didn’t call he didn't feel like a fight. Like being kidnapped by a mad man was somehow his fault, or of late she would turn it on his flatmate. No, maybe it was best.

          “She’s been working.” Sherlock glared down at the small Styrofoam plate of eggs and toast with disgust.

          “Who?”

          “Harry. She’s working and just got the message that you were in the hospital.”

          Liar. John thought to himself, knowing full well Harry practically fell asleep with her mobile attached to her hand. He refused to feel sorry for himself. After all Harry had her own life as did he they were never close.

A nurse offered the Doctor pain medication he tried to object but Sherlock sent him a very dark and firm look.  “If I have to eat you have to at least accept some pain relief. Besides believe me it makes dealing with Mycroft and Lestrade less irritating.” John squeezed the pillow hard as he let out a laugh, coughing hard and wincing.

          “Fine.” He relented. The drugs started to take over he thought he was dreaming again when Mycroft entered the dimly lit hospital room wearing a military dress uniform, he kept his voice low. John only grinned amused, what a funny dream.


	4. Quiet company of Friends

CHAPTER 4.

The drugs started to take over he thought he was dreaming again when Mycroft entered the dimly lit hospital room wearing a military dress uniform, he kept his voice low. John only grinned amused, what a funny dream.

“Should I have my PA and some of my men collect her?”

 _Who?_   John wondered.

  “No, John would never forgive us if he thought we mistreated the wench in any way.” Sherlock placed his hands under his chin in his usual praying manner.

_What wench? Did people even use that word anymore?_

“You spoke to her then, did you explain to her the circumstances of John’s condition?” Mycroft in his dress uniform looked displeased, John almost felt sorry for who ever they were discussing.

That and he never realized just how soft the light felt on his skin, could light feel soft and sparkly. He tried to listen to the two brothers. Those two were so funny sometimes. Wasn’t it just so warm in his bed.

“Yes.” Sherlock hissed, “The harpy said if he wasn’t dead then he was fine without her. Selfish b-“

“Sssh-“ Mycroft cut his brother off pulling him further from John’s bedside.

John wished the beeping of whatever machine next to him would shut up so he could hear the muffled conversation in the corner. The steady beat was somewhat comforting once he gave it more thought, his mind suggested it meant he was alive and fine. That was a relief, maybe slipping off into a sleep wasn’t so bad.

But no wait, wasn’t this the dream? Glassy blue eyes scanned the corner where both Holmes brothers still in military garb were looking quite put out.

Yup, it’s got to be the drugs. John fought to keep his eyes open,  his medically educated mind warned this strained conversation off in the shadowy corner was all illusion. Sounded right. The pain medication was playing tricks with his senses.

Right on cue, he could feel the welcoming darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision. He almost gave in, until the familiar gravely voice of Lestrade, the DI, Greg his friend, interrupted something General Holmes was saying.

When did he get here, was it a mission-er uh a case?

That thought sobered him a fraction but only enough to snap the dark back to the corners of an increasingly fuzzy vision. Why did it sound so distant?

 “I could send some boys over to pull her over?”

 _Who?_ John wanted to ask.

“No deal boss, I already ran her name she doesn’t have a car. Just leave it to me. I have an idea.  I’ll get her here, even if I have to drag the little-“ she dropped her voice, the group huddled together in the corner, shot worried glances over in the drugged up John's direction.

He only smiled easily from under droopy lids, how nice that they are holding up the walls, the walls did look like liquid.

Ah, there it was again. This wasn’t real and neither were they, but it was a comfort to have them all there. Even more so dressed in fatigues, well except Mycroft because a dress uniform was more his style.

“He’s really more than a bit out of it.” Captain Greg whistled.

“A bit.” Sherlock replied irritably straightening his black and gray combat jacket

 “Let us deal with Miss. Watson.”  Captain Greg gave a stiff nod.

John held back a snicker, everyone was in military garb. Why should that be comforting.

Sherlock did look foreboding  in the gray and black fatigues, foreboding and mysterious. John would have rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness, well if he wasn't completely certain his eyes wouldn't get stuck.

Mycroft looked comfortable, at home in his General’s uniform, ever so thoughtful and stern.

“Fine. The Doctor would consider your intentions and methods in a more positive light, than he would mine or my dear brothers.”

 Donovan laughed softly. “Yeah. I wonder why?”

Mycroft shot her a dark glare, dark enough that she took a step back. Sally stood with her arms crossed over her chest, oh the ever so somewhat loyal Sergeant Donovan. She should know better than tease General Holmes.

 John wanted to tell the group to shut up or speak up, either way if they were going to keep him up with their mumbling the lease they could do was make it so he could at least hear what they were saying. Or maybe he should tell them to piss off. 

His efforts were halted before he could start to figure a way to make his mouth form words, by soft fingers lightly brushing back the hair on his forehead, did he need a hair cut. For a moment he thought his mother was petting his head. No she was gone. A long time now. Whoever was reassuring him smelled of fresh biscuits and warm tea.

“You don’t worry now dear boy, you need rest.” Mrs. Hudson smiled affectionately and John knew better then to argue with the landlady especially when she was wearing  her red cross uniform. So he drifted off on the waves of a dream, one that promised  running, joking, the thrill of a hunt and a solved puzzle.


	5. WHEN HARRY MET SALLY

# CHAPTER 5. WHEN HARRY MET SALLY

“Here, drink this. And sit Miss. Watson I’m not afraid to use the cuffs. And like I said earlier ASBO is something I can arrange easily.”

 

 Harriet glared at the dark haired woman. Sighing dramatically she accepted the cup of black coffee, gross. An how the hell did they know where to find her? Who the hell were they anyway?

 

Must be that creepy flatmate of John’s he called enough times over the last few days, maybe he figured how to trace her whereabouts, no, no one had that kind of power, especially not some lame amateur detective.

Her eyes drifted over the unconscious man,  her brother’s steady rise and fall of his chest was in rhythm with one of the annoying beeping machines.

Well it was a somewhat nice room. The hospital probably showing some favoritism since he works there and all. Wait did he work at this hospital, she shrugged recalling he said he worked at a hospital.

Her brother the soldier slash Doctor. How annoying. Mum and Dad always like him more, he didn’t know how to mess up. Well what would they say now, the way he runs around with that idiot with the coat. Really her brother has no self respect playing lost puppy and jumping through hoops for the psychopathic flatmate.

Still, he looked so young, her hand reached out to smooth his blond hair. An action she hadn't been allowed to do since he was ten. At that age he claimed not to be a baby.

Harry found herself really looking at her brother, when had those age lines formed around his eyes. He always did smile entirely too much. His face had a few bruises and scrapes.

“What trouble did you find you idiot. You can never just keep your head down. Her fingers continued to comb through his short blond hair, she mused over how soft John’s hair was, even now, there was a hint of gray but it was nearly impossible to see due to his already natural light blond coloring. It blended well, unlike the darker strawberry blond she was cursed with, she had to dye it more often than she would ever admit.

Bloody hell, she wasn’t drunk enough for this. Hospitals reminded her of alcohol poisonings and rehab. What a buzz kill.

Sitting back in the uncomfortable chair, Harry shot a glare at the door, almost expecting that cop with the gray hair to harass her or that sergeant Suzy whatever.

Seriously what did it matter if she came or not? John wasn’t even awake! Why did they care anyway. Who was paying them? Not the flatmate, well he did act as if he came from money, and the older one with the umbrella definitely had money, but why would they care?

 John was her little brother. Even if these idiots were friends of her brother, wouldn’t they know she wasn’t close to John.

Hell he hadn’t cried over the fact she didn’t visited him while he was recovering in that army hospital.

 

“Everyone thinks you’re so fragile. Must be because you’re so short. Mum used to follow you around like you would fall at any moment. When you were still in nappies. You were just a ham with toes, I told her you had enough cushioning.” Harry snorted at the memory, her mother hadn't found humor in it, whatever she was uptight anyway. Still he was a ham, his rounded cherub cheeks and toothless smile. He would reach for Harry, his chubby little fists clutching at the hem of her t-shirt, tugging until she gave in and scooped him up.

She smiled briefly forcibly pushing that away, pouting “Whatever. I guess I’m here for an hour. Really John since when did you know so many damn cops? One minute I’m hitting on some chick at the bar, the next she’s flashing a badge at me pulling me out the door.

When I tried to pull away and go back into the club another uniformed officer flashed a badge at the bouncer and BAM! I’m cut off. I of course don’t like to be told what to do, so I started walking away. I didn’t do anything wrong so I flipped those coppers off. I manage to catch a cab. I get in and it’s pulled over a block away three bloody cop cars! You would think I murdered the prime minister or something the way they were acting. What the hell? How embarrassing. Then, then that bird from the bar, she pulls me out of the damn cab, now she’s with some other cop, I cant remember but he said his name was DI Strauss, Straud, or something like that. So, that Suzy cop,  says she’ll site me with an ASBO if I don’t get in their car. Talk about ruining a night.

I was like “Hey sweetheart if you wanted a date you could of just asked.” I hate cops you know I do. So I got in. You know what I don’t think this was even legal, they didnt even tell me why or what for.  Till I show up here. Hope you’re happy. I get one day off, and it’s spent here at a hospital.” Another heavy irritable sigh, then Harry scowled down at the cooling coffee, refusing to drink anymore she tossed the full cup into the small bin.

 “What am I supposed to do stay here till you wake up?” she murmured. Glancing over her brother she had the urge to lift his eye lids, but that would be no good. She gave in to pacing for five minutes, though she would swear it was an hour. Chancing a look out of the room briefly she surveyed the hospital corridor, disappointed when she could see those having a hand in her kidnapping.

The two cops that helped pull her over, were accepting a cup of coffee from the old cranky landlady.

Then  that Sergeant with the nice legs, Suzy, or whatever she was standing next to the gray haired DI who was talking to Mr. Pompous ass and Mr. Smug Know it all. At least she didn’t have to see them when she first came in.

“This was easier when you and your little friends simply threw spit balls at me. At least I could smack them and go my own separate way.” She neared the edge of the bed trying to stay upright. John was holding something in his hand, the light of one of the monitors reflected off the dark surface, she recognized it right away her mobile. Wow, so he still had it, would have thought he’d get a better one by now.

Yeah, Clara had given that to her but who cares. Even Clara had fallen for the Mr. St. John act. It was only fitting to give John the phone Clara had bought. Curiously she took the phone from his hand slowly, plopping back into the uncomfortable chair, she started going through his contacts.

Why not she was bored, she knew better to check the photos most likely there would be photos of dead bodies or god knows, from the stories she’d heard John start to tell every so often before she cut him off, she really hated to hear him brag about his flatmate like a proud big brother.

Why should _**HER**_ brother talk about **_HIM_** that way. He never talked about _**HER**_ that way. 

With another sigh, probably not the last,  she moved on to the text messages, scrolling through incoming and outgoing after the first few she stifled a laugh. Finding the texts from three days ago, caused her to hesitate before continuing on. That was the day John had apparently gone missing. No big surprise the first few texts were from that idiot flatmate.


	6. WORDS BETWEEN FRIENDS

**CHAPTER 6. WORDS BETWEEN FRIENDS**

**_Out of milk.-SH_ **

**_Received 8:15_ **

 

From the earlier texts Harry had read buying milk was on ongoing theme, what was Sherlock Holmes half cat? She giggled to herself reading John’s outgoing text.

**_What are you half cat? –JW_ **

**_sent 8:16  
_ **

****

**_Surely you don’t expect a reply.-SH_ **

**_Received 8:17_ **

****

**_Surely you don’t expect a reply.-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:19_ **

****

**_John how committed were you to that hideous Christmas jumper?-SH_ **

**_Received 8:25_ **

****

**_Sherlock. My sister gave me that for Christmas four years ago.-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:26_ **

****

**_So. Not going to miss it then?-SH_ **

**_Received 8:27_ **

****

Harry frowned, what! She picked that red jumper out with Clara! How dare he! It wasn’t hideous it was cute.

****

**_Sherlock Holmes! I said to stay out of my room.-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:29_ **

****

“Ha, good luck Johnny, you used to invade my room all the time, of course you were four but still just as annoying.”

****

**_Technically it was lodged behind the couch. I was dusting.-SH_ **

**_Received 8:30_ **

****

**_What? Lodged? And we both know you don’t dust! I’ve been looking for it since January when I couldn’t find it because it disappeared. How did it get behind the couch?”-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:32_ **

****

**_Interesting question. However hardly worthy of my time to investigate. Nevertheless you will be happy to know it did not die needlessly. Your jumper saved the flat from burning to the ground. It was a noble sacrifice that I’m sure Mrs. Hudson will appreciate.-SH_ **

**_Received 8:34_ **

****

**_Sherlock we are going to have a chat  when I get home.-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:36_ **

****

**_Just don’t forget the milk. And if you could, I need lighter fluid I’m all out.-SH_ **

**_Received 8:37_ **

**_Nicotine patches!-SH_ **

**_Received 8:37_ **

****

**_I just bought a box four days ago! –JW_ **

**_Sent 8:38_ **

****

**_Oh, did you? Well that went fast.-SH_ **

**_Received 8:39_ **

****

**_Sherlock, those are for curbing your cravings not to get high off .-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:42_ **

****

**_Don’t forget the lighter fluid. –SH_ **

**_Received 8:43_ **

****

**_Piss off. I’m not condoning or encouraging your pyromaniac tendencies.-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:45_ **

****

**_It’s for an experiment.-SH_ **

**_Received 8:46_ **

****

**_It’s imperative for the case.-SH_ **

**_Recived 8:47_ **

****

**_A MAN’S LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!-SH_ **

**_Recived 8:47_ **

****

**_Fine, I’ll pick up the lighter fluid. But if it’s for a future case that may or may not save a man’s life in some hypothetical sense,  I will murder you in your sleep. Or light your coat on fire. Maybe both.-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:48_ **

****

**_John clearly you’ve had a long day. You do know I rarely sleep. The chances of you successfully murdering me are thin.-SH_ **

**_Received 8:49_ **

****

**_I hate you. I’m on my way home. Stop harassing me.-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:50_ **

****

**_As you wish. Is it too late to ask you to pick up duct tape?-SH_ **

**_Received 8:51_ **

****

**_Yes.-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:51_ **

****

**_Pick up duct tape. Gray.-SH_ **

**_Received 8:51_ **

****

**_Sure, why not. I’ll just turn around. It’s not like I’m tired or anything. See you in about 30 min. Please don’t light anything on fire.-JW_ **

**_Sent 8:53_ **

****

**_John, it doesn’t take that long to walk from the corner store to the flat.-SH_ **

**_Received 9:30_ **

**_John, I really do need that lighter fluid and maybe the nicotine patches.-SH_ **

**_Received 9:31_ **

**_Don’t be childish John. I have a tight schedule to keep.-SH_ **

**_Received 9:32_ **

****

**_Hey, John. Sherlock is harassing me. Where are you? If the two of you are having a row just let me know. That way I can tell him to piss off. He’s asking me to send a squad car to the corner store. Also to remind you to pick up lighter fluid? And possibly duct tape? I don’t know and I don’t want to know.-Lestrade_ **

**_Received 9:40_ **

****

**_John, my brother is starting to make a nuisance of himself. If you are trying to prove a point do at least text him. He does worry. And when he worries he tends to make a pest of himself.-MH_ **

**_Received 9:42_ **

****

**_Hey Doctor Watson. It’s Molly. SH is looking for you. DI Lestrade called to check if u were here. A pretty brunette stopped in, also asking about u. Is that the new gf? She can txt pretty fast! U should give SH a call. –Molly_ **

**_Received 9:44_ **

****

**_Doctor Watson! How the hell did that freak get my number? I gave that to you in case of emergency only!-Sally_ **

**_Received 9:44_ **

 

**_John? Now I have Sally texting me. If you want a pint I’m always willing.-Greg_ **

**_Received 9:45_ **

****

**_Doctor Watson?-Sally_ **

**_Received 9:47_ **

**_John?-Sally_ **

**_Received 9:48_ **

****

**_John I tried calling, but you must be busy. Poker night has been switched according to constable Clarke. Give me a call when you get in. I received a strange message from Sherlock. Everything alright between you two? –Mike_ **

**_Received 9:48_ **

****

**_John I’m going to need all the nicotine patches at this point.-SH_ **

**_Received 9:48_ **

**_John! Mycroft refuses to check the cctv. Where are you? Don’t make me hack his system-SH_ **

**_Received 9:49_ **

****

**_Hey John. Sorry to bug you mate. But Sherlock has texted me several times. He even rang me. He sounds worried.-Mike_ **

**_Received 9:53_ **

****

**_John. Hello. SH had me check all the unidentified bodies that came in tonight. u know how he gets. I hope everything is alright.-Molly_ **

**_Received 9:54_ **

****

**_Doctor Watson, you are trying my patience. Despite my brother’s belief, I haven’t started a war. You can not blame your tardiness on traffic.-MH_ **

**_Received 9:55_ **

****

**_John. I double-checked my fat pompous brother hasn’t started a war so there is no reason for a delay. He has someone checking the cctv cameras.-SH_ **

**_Received 9:56_ **

****

**_I don’t know how you talk to that infuriating woman! I had Mycroft pull your birth certificate and he said you’re not adopted but I would have a DNA test if I were you.-SH_ **

**_Received 9:56_ **

 "Sod off you bloody bastard." Harry muttered.

**_John. You’re starting to make me worry. Just give me a call when you get this.-Lestrade_ **

**_Received 9:56_ **

****

**_John I am officially worried you normally reprimand me for any slander against your idiot sister.-SH_ **

**_Received 9:57_ **

****

**_There it was again and nothing. I’m currently half way from the flat to the hospital. Mycroft's goons are checking the cctv.–SH_ **

**_Received 9:59_ **

****

**_Doctor Watson if you and that freak are having a little domestic I swear I’ll slap you both with harassment and false complaints. Wasting my time. I have to be up early tomorrow. Unlike some people I have a schedule to keep.-Sally_ **

**_Received 9:52_ **

****

**_So I’m heading out, I’ve also called Lestrade. Sending two PC’s to patrol the street between your work and B St. but if you are just playing around I wont hesitate to have the boys arrest you two. I don’t care what the DI says.-Sally_ **

**_Received 9:53_ **

****

**_Hey John Sherlock has called me twice. Is everything alright? He’s looking for you. Give me a call when you get in.-Sarah_ **

**_Received 9:53_ **

****

**_Doc. Just a heads up Srgt. D is on the warpath.-Clarke_ **

**_Received 9:53_ **

****

**_Ok me and officer Stone are officially looking for u. Give me a txt back. Or maybe u can text her before this gets out of hand. I really dont want to arrest u or SH again. My wife barely forgave me last time. I spent a week on the couch.-Clarke_ **

**_Received 9:54_ **

****

**_Hey mate. I tried calling, you probably dont hav my number saved in ur phone. I left a message. poker games been moved. I’ll text the address when I get it.-Ricky_ **

**_Received 9:54_ **

 

**_On a side note,  Idk if u hav been told already but Srgt. D  is sendin me and Clarke out to patrol for u. Yeah, Clarke said hes not arresting u so I ll hav to. Plse dont make me. Call  DI Lestrade. Do it for poker night.-Ricky_ **

**_Received 9:55_ **

****

**_Hello again John. Just checking back in. Starting to worry myself.-Molly_ **

**_Received 9:56_ **

**_John where are you?-Sh_ **

**_Received 9:56_ **

**_John?- Greg_ **

**_Received 9:56_ **

**_John?-Mike_ **

**_Received 9:57_ **

**_John. I called Rita at the hospital she said you were off almost an hour ago. Sherlock called four times. And some woman who never looked up from her damn mobile stopped by to ask if I’d seen you tonight. What’s going on?-Sarah_ **

**_Received 9:59_ **

****

**_Doctor Watson? –Sally_ **

**_Received 10:05_ **

****

**_Doctor Watson it’s Rita. Several calls for you tonight after you left. I hope everything is alright. Please give me a call or a text no matter how late when you do get this. –Dr. Noels_ **

**_Received 10:06_ **

****

**_Mate? –Clarke_ **

**_Received 10:07_ **

**_Yeah, starting to worry mate. – Ricky_ **

**_Received 10:07_ **

**_Ok, now the police stopped in. Where the hell are you? Call me! – Sarah_ **

**_Received 10:10_ **

****

**_Doctor Watson at this point I am now resorting to previous methods of locating you. Expect a car.-MH_ **

**_Received 10:20_ **

 

Harry remembered receiving a text that night from the insane flatmate and several calls she just turned her phone off. Looking at the incoming messages made her feel sick, John always had a way of making her feel guilty, guilty for not being him or being good enough. For not being better.

 

She placed the phone on the end table.  She wondered how many of her friends would notice if she went missing, how long it would take before anyone realized they hadn't seen her at the club, at the gym or coffee shop. What would her boss think? She would worry but then after several days write her off as a walk out. John might notice, but they hardly talked as it was. So no, no he wouldn’t.

 

Alright that was her fault they weren’t exactly close. He was always nagging about her smoking and her drinking the constant flow of broken relationships. Who was he to talk to her about steady and consistency?

She refused to admit she was jealous over the fact that so many people noticed he was gone in less than fifteen minutes. Fifteen, she would give it two weeks at the least if she didn’t show up. And that would mostly be bill collectors.

 


	7. interactions

**CHAPTER 7. INTERACTIONS  
**

Harry didn't know how long she'd been sitting in the chair, but the sun outside the windows was coming up and John's landlady kept forcing a hot cup of coffee in her hands no matter how many times she tried to tell her she wasn't going to drink it.

In the end it was best to just give in, the infuriating woman reminded her of grams. When his majesty himself finally swept into the room, his stupid dark coat swishing behind him like a cape or some king's robe, Harry tensed ready for a fight.

Instead of saying anything or taking notice of her, he went straight to the many machines studying the monitors with such an intensity she found herself studying them as well. Harry couldn't help but wonder if he even knew exactly what he was looking for, he wasn't a Doctor after all.

"I may not be. However I do know the general purpose of these monitors." He glared down at her and took a chair across from her. it was always creepy when he read her thoughts like that.

Another uncomfortable silence ensued, on in which both parties pretended the other wasn't secretly studying them from he corner of their eye. The silence was finally broken by another doctor coming in. Harry stretched straightening her black party dress, John should be waking up right?

She heard two of John's nurses chatting earlier, about her brother yelling yesterday. Harry tried to decide who it was he had most likely been yelling at, and feeling sorry for missing it.

"What is it?" Harry's head snapped in the direction of the now standing Sherlock Holmes. When had he got to his feet, and that poor Doctor looked as if he were about to be executed. "There's something wrong. Out with it."

"Nothing too serious, he has a slight fever, his lungs sound good so we aren't too concerned but we will continue monitoring it closely. I'll have a nurse come in with something to counter the infection. He has requested no more pain medication but with his condition-"

"Yes. He can be rather stubborn on this subject." Sherlock growled shoving his fists into his coats pockets.

"Who are you calling stubborn." John's voice brought Harry to her feet. He was obviously fine, why was she so worried. The Doctor obviously thinks everything is going well, so maybe she could just talk to Johnny and go. Nearing the bed, her sober eyes inspected the battered face of her younger brother. He did look worse with every sobering moment.

"You-you twit." Harry broke in and her brother who was rubbing the backs of his bruised eye lids with his good hand, frowned turning in her direction. All three men were looking at her as if she appeared out of thin air.

"Harry?" John cringed at the sound of his own voice and tried to clear it, bad idea this caused him to wince even more. Sherlock gently placed a hospital pillow against John's chest, the blond man hugged it as if for dear life. While several coughs racked his body.

"I don't need the-"

"Of course you don't." Harry sighed, "Quit being annoying you brat and let the doctor treat you. It's not like you're going to become a raging morphine addict over night."

"Harry-when did you get here?"

"Last night."

"Don't you work today?" she hadn't thought about that, dammit.

"Yeah, well I called in. Don't worry about me. You idiot, I'm not the one arguing with the Doctor that's only trying to make me feel better." She could see him now, really see him. The tightness around his eyes, and mouth, he was clinching his jaw. That and the bruises were more apparent against the sickly gray color of his skin. She had a hard time determining if the the bags under his eyes were bags or bruises.

"I just hate being confused and out of it."

"Don't knock it till you try it." Harry joked, causing her brother to frown. "Oh, it's a joke. Look how grumpy you are, pain has a way of doing that to you. Then you become intolerable and everyone around you pays the price. Do I have to remind you of the tree house incident of-"

John cut her off before she could continue, "Fine. Fine. Just enough to help with the pain."

Harry thought she caught the brief smile of approval from the dark haired consulting detective, no, that had to be wrong. Sherlock didn't approve of her let alone smile in her general direction.

Said flatmate hovered for a moment as if trying to decide what to do next, when Mrs. Hudson arrived. Once more the old woman forced another bloody cup of coffee on her. Then shooed Mr. Know it all out of the room.

"Give them privacy, she's not an assassin. And you need to eat."

"She hasn't eaten yet either." Sherlock whined.

"Don't you worry about her dear, you worry about yourself now. She'll eat when she's ready."  
"But I'm not ready-"the argument moved down the hospital corridor.

Harry pulled her chair closer to John's bed. "If I see one more cup of coffee I'm going to scream."

"Mrs. Hudson means well."

"Yeah, she's rather intimidating." The two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"You don't have to stick around Harry. It's good to see you. I know I haven't been exactly the-" Ugh it was so like him to apologize, Harry felt worse.

"John. Let's just not start. I'm here. I wanted to see you awake and alive. Stop apologizing. I know I'm a bad sister, I don't need you guilt tripping me."

"I wasn't, I 'm not. Is that what you think I do?" he looked as if she'd just told him she broke his action man.

"All the time." Harry shook her blond head. "We aren't all perfect like you Johnny. Cant all be saints."

"Harry. If I made you feel that way it wasn't my intention-"

"There you go again. I'm being an absolute bitch and you're blaming yourself. You're so frustrating." she was on her feet now, arms crossed over her chest. Coffee be damned, she added it to the others in the bin.

A quick knock came to the door interrupting whatever she was about to say. A cute red head, (Harry had always been partial to red heads) breezed into the room, wearing a yellow flower pattered swing dress, and a black cardigan. Harry thought she looked like a fifties housewife in those black heels and the way her hair was pulled back.

"I'll be quick Doctor, I have my husband holding Stella in the hall, and she isn't exactly in the best of moods. I did want to drop off this basket. When mum heard you were ill she went to work baking you your favorite biscuits and scones. I added some of that homemade Jam you like so much. The flowers are from all of us at the bakery."

"Thank you Mrs. Clarke-"

"Hanna. I've told you none of this Clarke stuff." She approached his bed after placing the flowers and basket over on a small table in the corner. To Harry's surprise she hadn't noticed the table before where several get well balloons danced around the cards and flowers someone had neatly arranged.

"Hanna this is my sister Harry, Harry this is Hanna Clarke, her husband is a constable." Harry smiled politely taking the shorter woman's offered hand at the same time wondering which one of the cops from last night was this woman's husband.

"Oh! Hello. Nice to meet you. What a good sister you are." Harry smiled back at the small red head, sensing no subtext or backhanded compliment she always assumed would be thrown at her for being just the opposite. "Oh I better go, Stella get's so fussy. And Clarke gets nervous, really that man, he acts like she's made of glass and he'll break her."

"He's still new at it. How is she taking to the new formula?" Harry caught the change in her brothers tone, he sounded well-like a doctor.

"Wonderfully thanks for asking Doctor. She's put some weight on since you last saw her. That Doctor Wilson sure knows her stuff." She turned to Harry "Must come in handy to have a Doctor in the family." Harry didn't reply but Hanna didn't take notice. "I suppose we'll miss you on Wednesday's, but I warned Clarke, and someone tracked mud on my carpet." John held back a laugh, wincing again. "I think the only well mannered friends are you and that Sweet Doctor Stamford. His wife by the way is coming over to learn how to bottle Jam properly. She doesn't allow poker night at her house either. So I'm not feeling so bad." Harry was trying to keep up with the woman's quick words. Did she ever take a breathe?

"Now you take care. Can't have one of Stella's favorite uncles in the hospital too long."

"Yes, ma'am." John saluted well as best as his aching body would allow.

"Nice to meet you Miss Watson. You keep an eye on him. Never met a more stubborn man." And like that the whirlwind that was Mrs. Clarke was gone, leaving the room smelling of strawberries, Harry could hear the click of the high heels echoing down the corridor.

"Is she always so-so cheerful? For such a short woman she's almost intimidating."

"Yes. Well that's Hanna Clarke."

"Uncle Johnny is it?"

"She's just being polite."

"Oh, I didn't know you were good with kids, or even liked them." Harry wasn't sure how she felt about that, Clara had wanted kids but Harry wasn't ready and it wasn't something she saw in her future.

"They're just overly sentimental." Sherlock's baritone voice once more interrupting, he had a look of disgust on his face as he attempted to wipe something off his shoulder with a napkin.

"Did Clarke make you hold the baby?"

"He was called away to the Yard, I didn't have a chance to decline his offer to _hold the baby._ She was foisted on me, resulting in spit up on my coat." He pulled his coat off irritably.

"She likes you." John hugged the pillow as he giggled.

"The feeling is not mutual John. I thought I made it clear that I wasn't a nurse maid and this is the second time she's forced me to send my coat to be laundered."

"So you make a habit of holding her then?" Sherlock rolled his eyes scowling at a grinning Harry.

"Do keep up. She once again was shoved at me and I had no choice."

"Really?" Harry caught her brother's smirk.

"Well go one John tell her how you ruined a perfectly good scarf as well."

"Sherlock! It was freezing out, and in fairness I gave her my jumper as a blanket, I was attached to it as well. And your scarf was needed to keep her warm. As for your coat I apologized but it was a noble cause. Hanna had just given birth for Christ sakes."

"Wait, you delivered her baby?"

"Yes. Well, I didn't know she was Clarke's wife. We were on our way to a crime scene when there was a car accident at the interception, some idiot ran a red light and hit a cab."

"And naturally John can't be bothered to let someone else deal with it-"

"I am a trained doctor of course I'm going to see if I can help. It was a good thing too. Turns out the cab was on the way to the hospital, because the woman inside was in labor."

"Yes, so inconvenient, and messy." Sherlock growled.

"Sherlock." John shook his head, Harry couldn't help but laugh again, imagining the tall detective being forced to hold a screaming infant.

"I had to see to the driver and Hanna was barely conscious. By the time the ambulance arrived, she was out breathing but unconscious. Fortunate for Stella, her uncle Sherlock was there to keep her company. She did look cute in that scarf." He tried to suppress a grin.

"Well, it's amazing how incredibly useless the offspring of our species are in infancy. You said keep her warm, well since you'd relieved me of my coat to keep the mother warm, I removed my scarf and made sure to wrap the babies head. Now every time I see the woman she insists on trying to stuff me with biscuits and cake. Even worse is she is a hugger. A hugger John!"

"Poor Sherlock. Constantly harassed into human contact." He turned to Harry, "I have pictures on my mobile one of the officers on scene snapped them while Sherlock was busy attempting to comfort a screaming child."

"I'm sure your sister will not find anything interesting in a few poorly taken low resolution photographs from a cheap throw away mobile. And once again, I was merely trying to get the infant to shut up so I could think."

"Well whatever you did worked."


	8. LANYARD

**CHAPTER 8. LANYARD**

Harry didn't know how it happened but John had nodded off and that devil woman Mrs. Hudson was dragging her towards a private family room where she found a change of clothes. "If you want some coffee-"

"No!" Harry regretted raising her voice she continued gently "I mean no. I'm fine. I'll just be off. If you'll show me where I can-"

"Oh of course dear. There are some toiletries in there as well. I thought you'd fancy a shower. I wasn't sure exactly what to pick out, your wardrobe is-well a little more racy than in my time."

"How did you get into my flat?"

"Oh, well I don't know I was given a key. Didn't you know? Well probably, Sherlock has a bad habit of pinching things. No matter, he does mean well. Poor dear hasn't slept since the Doctor disappeared. That young man was besides himself; I thought he would wear a hole in my carpet. You know how he gets dear when the Doctor's injured."

"I don't." Harry replied honestly.

"Bloody unbearable! My walls can't take it!"

"Your walls?"

"Yes, my poor walls. My curtains, my sister gave me those. And the poor carpet! It's bad enough getting blood out, but acid!"

"What?"

"Oh look at me dear going off, you go now get yourself cleaned up."

When Harry returned feeling less cranky with a shower, and somehow more comfortable in a pair of her jeans and a cream colored blouse, it didn't escape her notice that the clothes the land lady chose were all very causal. Even down to the comfortable flats.

Anymore thought on her wardrobe was overcome by the delicious aroma of pasta? She followed the scent back into the room she'd left earlier. A young man in a blue hoodie smiled politely as he unloaded several bags of food from a box at his feet. She caught a name on his name badge as well as a face. Marco Desoto and the other young man was Anthony Desoto. Were they house staff?

"Hey Marco this is the last of it. Angelo said to be sure you didn't crush the rolls."

"I've got it Tony, I've got it. Just you take the old stuff there and bin it."

Harry watched as the two young delivery boys squabbled back in forth. Who ever this Angelo was, he sounded like a task master.

"Hello boys." Mrs. Hudson greeted both young men, "Oh! This looks delicious. When-"

"When Angelo heard that Doctor John was in the hospital he had us bring over food for everyone. He also said whatever Doctor needs he'll have it made fresh and brought right away. I hope you don't mind we are throwing out this old platter of sandwiches. Hospital food. Gross. Sick people come here to be well not to be force fed bland poison." Tony made a face and his cousin or brother nodded in agreement.

"Yes. I agree. I was going to bring something from home but you've saved me the trip. And I'll definitely let our Doctor know, when he wakes up of course.. It's still too early for food just yet."

"Angelo said he will come by again today. If you will give our best as well. We read the last blog update, business has been booming since he mentioned our humble establishment. Even if he hadn't done this, we would be here. Angelo considers the Doctor and Mr. Holmes family. This includes his family as well."

Mrs. Hudson was misty eyed. " Be sure to thank him from us all. What a kind man."

Harry wondered how this Angelo knew John, and maybe she should read her brother's blog.

Embarrassingly enough she hadn't even bothered, maybe it was because everyone who heard her mention that idiot flatmate and her brother the person instantly referred to John as the blogger. Whatever.

She'd read his love letters and poetry to his little girlfriends when he was in primary school, she'd rather not read any gushy overtures of admiration for Mr. Sherlock fucking Holmes. Her stomach growled and she started on the chicken fettuccine, not exactly a breakfast food but she'd take it.

After eating her fill, which was way too much she decided to head back to John's room. Now that she thought of it, this hospital floor seemed empty; last she recalled there weren't a whole lot of doctor's or nurses wondering the corridors. Something else she noticed was the fact that most the medical staff she passed were wearing what looked like ear pieces.

A cute brunette woman in a black skirt suit with a very nice backside caught her attention briefly, Harry could here the brunette speaking sharply to a male nurse in blue scrubs. A strong woman, not bad. She liked her ladies a little less bossy though, cant stand a nag, that and Harry didn't mind a girl into the latest technology but this one never looked up from her phone and her fingers were constantly tap tap tapping out messages at super human speed.

"Excuse me ma'am can I help you?" one of the orderlies or nurses in blue scrubs stepped firmly in her path, so focused on the brunette she almost crashed into the giant of a man.

"Uh, no. I think I'm good thanks." She started to walk around the tall man whose forearms would make the hulk think twice. He blocked her way once more.

"Stand down. It's the sister. Didn't you get the memo?" the brunette was crossing the hall her eyes still not moving from the blackberry in her hands.

"Oh, my apologies Miss Watson." The big man stepped aside. Harry frowned watching him and two others who by the way appeared out of no where followed the big man, she thought she saw one holding a gun but just as quickly it disappeared from sight.

"Here." The brunette still not looking up from her phone handed Harry a lanyard with a picture ID.

"What the hell is this for?"

"It's just easier this way. It causes less confusion."

"A why should I wear a name badge just to see my brother? That and no one else is wearing one." Harry knew she sounded like an upset child but she didn't like being told what to do.

"Mr. Holmes has ordered all visitors not known by staff directly to wear these." A stern reply, one that said I shouldn't have to explain.

"So. That still doesn't answer my question." Harry glared at the offensive name badge, as if the brunette was trying to hand her a dead cat.

"Due to the circumstances of John-of Doctor Watson's being admitted Mr. Holmes has heightened security."

"Sherlock has that kind of power?" This caused the brunette's fingers to falter and she even looked up, then just as quickly she shook her head and returned to her mobile.

"I didn't think you were serious. No. Mr. Holmes as in Mycroft Holmes."

"What? Isn't that Sherlock's brother?"

"Yes." Was all the brunette replied "Now if you would put the name badge on."

"What did you mean known directly by staff? What department do you work for? You don't look like police."

"Thankfully."

"Excuse me?"

"Please Mrs. Watson the badge. Most of the staff is familiar with your brother seeing how he's worked closely with key members on certain confidential projects. Confidential so you understand I cannot go into detail. Some of the visiting Yarders are familiar as well, seeing how over the years they've worked quite closely with the younger Holmes and Doctor Watson, and by extension our department."

"So because they've worked with your staff before they don't have to-wait, wait wait. The Doctor's and nurses are not wearing these," Harry slipped hers on "And that Hanna woman or Mrs. Hudson-"

"Like I said ma'am they have already been cleared by our people, and security personnel are familiar with those in our staff and those who have thus far visited."

"So why don't they know me?"

"What she's trying to politely say Harriette is they don't know you because you don't come around and make a nuisance of yourself like the others." Sherlock appeared out of nowhere, making Harriette jump. Damn did he ever make a noise?

The Brunette didn't continue speaking; she just gave a tight smile and continued on her way.

"What's with the security?" Harriette glared at the picture, where the hell did they get a copy of her picture from her license?

"My brother has taken the extra precaution of reserving this whole floor for John's safety."

"Why?" Harry felt the cool gaze turn on her, the kind that looked right through her. Just as quickly he looked away, sighing heavily

"Because Harriet the men who abducted John thought they were handling just a regular doctor on his way home from work. They didn't anticipate that he would catch and take note of some of their operation's finer details. Once they realized his association to me and by default my brother, they moved quite swiftly to be rid of him. Those idiots were going to shoot him and dispose of his body in the river." Harry didn't miss the short pause, as if saying these words left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Their first mistake was to kidnap John in the first place and their second was to underestimate the good Doctor. One of the men he killed in the struggle was the nephew of the Cartel's leader. They take the threat or death of family members quite personally."

"You think they'll retaliate?"

"My brother has taken all necessary precautions. His men are closing in on the high ranking cartel members."

"Why are you here then? Shouldn't you be out there helping?"

"Because I 've given my brother all the necessary information his men would need to successfully find the fleeing members, it couldn't be any easier if I took a big red crayon and drew out a pretty map for them. A trained monkey could figure it out. As you can see we take the threat just as personally."

He didn't say anymore before striding past her muttering about having to eat and Doctor's orders.

How confusing, what kind of people did John know? Really, she thought he knew a couple cops not government agents. A whole floor to himself, the staff carrying guns, was that a little overboard? Why would they care? Had John gained some huge insight they found imperative to whatever case they were building against these cartel people?

And did they just not know her due to the fact she didn't come around often? So just like the food delivery boys she was to wear a lanyard. It hit her when she took a seat in John's room, those delivery boys had referred to John and Sherlock as family, and in a round about way Sherlock had called John family.

Just then her own mobile buzzed she'd forgotten about her purse someone had set it neatly on the side table near her chair. She answered it moving away from John's bed.

"Hello."

"Oh, yes Hello. Harry. It's me. I'm just letting you know we totally understand your circumstances and take as much time as you need. We are al praying for your little brother. We've sent an arrangement. Feel free to call if you need anything."

"Sorry-I was about to call in. I know I'm-"

"No, no. Harry. It's all fine. We'll see you when you get back."

Harry didn't get a chance to say anything else before the call was ended. Odd, her boss never seemed the sympathetic type, and she hadn't even called, so how did she know?

"Harry?" John's glassy eyes settled on her, "What are you-"

"Sssh Johnny." Harry was at his side, he held a stupid grin on his face, whatever drugs he was on, she was a bit jealous.

"The sun isn't so bad here." he murmured, he flicked at her name badge hanging from around her neck. "Do you work at the hospital now?" she shook her head.

"No, but your friends brother I guess gave these to everyone his people don't know personally."

"Over reacting-so dramatic. They don't look it but they worry too much. I'm fine. I feel great." John smiled drunkenly.

"Clearly." another smile, his eyelids drooping. "John, who are these people. I thought Sherlock was an amateur detective."

"No-the yard doesn't consult amateurs."

"Right. And who is his brother?"

"The British Government." John whispered as if people were listening. "It's okay though, he hates leg work. It's warm in the desert don't forget your sunscreen. I left my canteen, can I borrow yours?"

"I'll get you some water Johnny." She placed a hand to his cheek his face looked flushed and he was warm to the touch, too warm.

"Glad you came Harry. I miss you sometimes." she winced hearing the honesty in his hoarse voice, she didn't trust herself to speak without some cutting remark, so she remained quiet.


	9. STRANGERS

**CHAPTER 9. STRANGERS**

Harriett stood back while a nurse entered after she pressed the call button, the response was swift.

"He's running a high fever." The nurse was speaking quickly to a doctor and then two more doctor's hurried into the room. Harry didn't understand their medical talk but she got the gist, high fever bad, infection also bad. Sherlock was standing off to the side looking lost and to her surprise helpless.

John hissed, when one of the Doctor's started to pull off the bandages around his torso. John's hospital gown had kept the worst covered up until now, as they unsnapped the gown folding it down his shoulders. Harry cringed catching sight of his old shoulder scar, and moving down past the fading bruises she held her breathe. Angry red lines formed around some of the bandages, and when the Doctor peeled them back none to gently, she could see where they stitched him up, how many times had he been stabbed? How the hell was he alive?

"I apologize Doctor Watson, but we will have to flush these. You have a high grade fever and infection is setting in." Her brother didn't reply, Harry tried to see around the crowd of Doctors and at the same time remain out of their way.

"Doctor Watson?" the lead Doctor leaned over he spoke loudly as if John was hard of hearing. "John?"

A nurse was pushing Harry and Sherlock out the door after that, making the situation seem all the more serious.

"He was just talking fine. Laughing. He seemed fine." Harry found herself saying out loud. Sherlock didn't reply, he only started to pace, he rudely snapped at one of the nurses when she didn't have any new information. They were pulling John away, she couldn't read the meanings behind their pinched faces, and tried to commit their words to memory, to google maybe later. To her surprise the crazy flatmate of John's tried to follow and one of the nurses stopped him dead in his tracks before John's cot disappeared behind heavy doors.

Harry watched as another nurse came to calm the tall dark haired man, it didn't look like whatever he was saying was working. Harry tensed, shouldn't she feel more-it was her brother after all? She did feel, felt like a drink, but she wouldn't think about that now.

She studied her brother's best friend, he tried one more time to step around the nurse and male nurse. Both blocked his way, he turned away and then started back, only to start pacing muttering something about incompetence. Surely he could see they were doing everything they could. He finally took a position leaning against the walls next to the doors, waiting for John to return. Who's the puppy now? She thought to herself, almost immediately feeling guilty for thinking such a thing. The look on Sherlock's face was foreign to her. She equated him with two facial expressions, bored and irritated.

Harry slowly found herself wanting to join him near the doors, but her feet were unwilling. Out of her comfort zone, she remained planted firmly beside John's empty hospital room, no surprise there, she was never one to face a problem it was easier to keep yourself distant.

Harry noticed the landlady with her blasted coffee approaching her brother's friend. The older woman placed a hand on his forearm, halting his erratic motions. Harry could faintly hear their conversation.

"He wouldn't like you making such a fuss dear. I'm sure everything will be fine. He's seen worse. And Mycroft has made sure he has the best physicians. Even had that surgeon fellow fly all the way in from Sweden. How about that handsome German um Doctor something?"

"Idiots Mrs. Hudson, they're all idiots. This-"

"That is quite enough. When is the last time you slept? Had anything to eat?" No answer returned.

"I got here as soon as I could. What's going on?" The gray haired cop had rushed past her and joined the other two, on his heels was the dark haired woman with the legs. She'd almost be pretty if she smiled more, Harry thought tiredly. The group massed at the end of the hall just to the side of the doors, and Harry didn't know any of them, not really.

Maybe John had made a mention of them but whenever he brought up that subject she liked to change it. Harry couldn't explain why she was like that. It couldn't be jealousy? She had a life, fun and a decent job. Stability. What did John have? He worked locum, lived in a small flat with a mad man in a dark coat. Chased criminals with cops and maybe government agents.

Looking at them all, the strangers, making their phone calls promising to keep who ever it was they were notifying, updated. She held her own mobile in her hand, who could she call or text?

"He'll be going into surgery." She jumped almost dropping her mobile, her heart went to her throat.

"My apologies Miss. Watson I did not wish to startle you." Harry didn't have to look over to know who was talking. Anyway the older Holmes was holding his umbrella observing the small group near his brother. What was his deal?

He seemed like he wanted a response but Harry couldn't find one. How did he know John was going into surgery, no one had said anything to her, she was _his sister_ after all. Right? Looking then at the group of people she wondered what weight that carried in this situation.

"Oh, excuse me." A small woman with a side braid brushed past them nearly running into Mycroft. She halted turning bright red, Harry wondered if she were a Doctor as well, with her white lab coat she wasn't dressed like one. A pair of beige trousers and a plain black jumper. "Mr. Holmes. I'm so sorry didn't see you there. Have you heard anything new? I received a text from Greg-I um," she cleared her throat "From DI Lestrade."

"Yes. I believe the Doctor's are still in with Doctor Watson. Their appears to be an infection-" The mousy woman's face paled so suddenly Harry thought she was going to faint, but instead the doctor started muttering words that Harry had never heard. Words like; Laparoscopy, anterior abdomen, possible complications with liver, lungs bile-" she realized suddenly that she was talking out loud, stammering an apology. "Excuse me I'll just-" And the mouse turned around to join the group leaving Harriet even more confused.

"You'll pardon my manners I forgot to introduce you. That was Doctor Molly Hooper she's the pathologist that works with the Yard. I believe my brother spends an unhealthy amount of time in her lab harassing the poor woman." Mycroft had a look of pity on his face, Harry could only watch leaning against the wall. "I have the utmost faith in the Doctor's here, and of course your brother has a strong will to live."

"Why are you doing this for him? Is he supposed to testify or something?" Mycroft's eyes narrowed briefly but his face remained passive. "I mean this is a lot of trouble for just one man."

"Excuse me Miss. Watson I must take this call. If you join the others I believe Doctor Royce will be out to update-" and right on cue a doctor in green scrubs burst through the doors. She moved away from the tall government man and stepped closer to hear what the Doctor was saying. Why did she feel like such a stranger, she didn't know any of them but from the looks of concern and alarm they knew her brother, of course none of the others wore a stupid name badge. She really needed a drink, or a cigarette.


	10. FEVER DREAMS

**CHAPTER 10. FEVER DREAMS**

John thought he was done dreaming, hoped he was awake, but all that was out the window when his flatmate made his entrance wearing the gray and black uniform from earlier.

He was arguing with General Mycroft and Captain Lestrade, well that's no good.

"S'ppose to listen to superiors officers." John thought his tongue was heavy, and his throat felt dry and raw.

"John?" Sherlock frowned.

"Sssh. Now dear get some sleep your supposed to be resting." John wished his vision wasn't so blurred. The hands that combed through his hair were soft and carried a scent of coffee and biscuits. He thought if he was lying in the desert it was alright, the sun wasn't so punishing although he was warm all over his skin felt tight.

He could hear a fight someone was yelling he thought, was it a fight. He tried to get up, thinking his flatmate was at it again.

"It'll be a definite Court Marshal if he hits the General."

"The General?" Captain Lestrade asked, John knew even though his face was quite blurry his brow wish creased with a frown and he was rubbing the stubble on his chin.

"I think he means Mycroft." Mrs. Hudson not the housekeeper said softly.

"Captain." John greeted his friend, he found his arms were too heavy for a salute, but he nodded just the same.

"Uh, Captain." Lestrade sounded uncomfortable but nodded in reply.

"They shouldn't have gotten this far!" Sherlock's voice raised. "And I wont let you use him as bait!"

"Not here." A familiar female voice snapped.

"Ssh Johnny, here drink." John could see Harry perfectly, she was wearing her school blazer, her blond hair in a high pony tail the pink streaks bright against the blond.

"Mum's going to murder you for that pink." Harry hushed him, putting a straw to his lips.

"We'll she got used to it after a bout of yelling remember." she colored her hair pink years ago, how could he remember that, he was six at the time. He had sat quietly watching as Lily attempted dying Harry's blond strands, they managed to get dye staining the counters and their skin. Johnny was no exception; he was sitting on the counter holding the box reading the words he could spot. "A, the, is, pink, kkkeeep ouh ouat out of reach." He had scrunched up his face giving up almost right away. He had put his action man on the counter and both were watching her with their heads tilted to the side.

"Mummy is going to murder you Harry." he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Probably but then you can have my room." Harry was holding a towel around her wet head, pink staining the white material, she laughed seeing the smudges of pink on John's cheek and hands.

"I don't want her to murder you." He sounded so genuine, his blue eyes wide and pleading.

"Then I guess you cant have my room. And don't worry about her I know how to handle her and dad." She stuck out her pierced tongue and he only gave her a doubtful look.

"You can sleep in my fort if you need to hide out." He offered anxiously.

"Johnny I'm not going to fit, besides you're six. Stop worrying about me. Like I said I've got this."

Now in the hospital room, Harry concentrated on her brothers breathing steadily, how did they get this far apart. She didn't want to stay and had every intention on going home but for some reason leaving just felt like running away.

"He'll be alright dear. It's just the fever and the medication." Mrs. Hudson promised.

John tried to focus but everything seemed so fuzzy and the shapes blurred in and out. The dreams that threatened to pull him under were dark and cold he could hear the distant cries of the dying and the whistling of bombs and hum of tanks.

Sometimes he would be standing in an alley dressed for combat next to a bored Sherlock. Others he could hear Captain Lestrade and his officers talking to him from the other side of a thick wall. He tried to follow the sound to locate a door but no matter how hard he tried, it was just crumbling buildings and the distant sounds of gunfire.

At times Sherlock would reappear to convince him everything was fine. How could he think that? The sun was hot, he wished to pull his heavy armor from him, the helmet giving him a headache it blurred his vision. And then Sherlock would leave again. The city was empty on this side of the wall, he needed to help the others.

Finally Harry appeared, he found his sister hands on hips, wearing her gray school uniform, pleated skirt and all. Standing in the middle of the empty city, looking worried.

This reminded him he was indeed dreaming, especially when she spoke to him gently.

"Johnny, easy now. Just breathe. You're alright."

She would try to get him to follow her, to stay down, to breathe slowly. Easy for her to say she wasn't wearing heavy body armor, and a helmet that felt as if it was squeezing his skull.

The sounds of officer Stone and Officer Clarke's voice broke through from behind the wall he refused to move away from. Stone and Clarke were good men, still young they had wives and children. They needed to be safe, they shouldn't be here, and somehow he knew it was his fault that they were.

~0~

Sherlock hated Mycroft's plan, but he had to admit it was the best option open to them. It would lead to the capture of the cartel's _**Butcher**_ the man had sworn an oath of vengeance against John. Apparently that was the man's favorite nephew. Well serves him right trying to kill John in some alley near the docks. Cliché really, predictable and boring. Mycroft allowed the information to leak that John was alive after a long debate over his friend's safety, he gave in.

Even that witch Harry had agreed it was something to just get over with. Instead of John being gun down at work or on the street. Mycroft just wanted the Butcher alive for interrogation purposes. Sherlock didn't care if he was alive or dead, he wasn't getting anywhere close to his friend. The man didn't deserve to breath the same air.

John was still battling a fever, the Doctor's were certain it wasn't too serious an infection, according to them it could have been worse. After a Lapraoscopy they declared his bowels were uninjured. A relief because John didn't need that kind of infection or complication.

Sherlock waited, and observed, officer Clarke and Stone took position in John's room at the door, a precaution, no one expected the butcher to make it to the top floor the other henchman had tested security and he was caught in the elevator by Mycroft's men. Something infuriating to Sherlock, how the hell did they get this far? He had given Mycroft all the necessary information to bring down the cartel but some how his men bumbled the operation allowing the one man to get away. **Don Macellaio** **the Butcher.**

Clarke and Stone had volunteered and Mycroft's PA had them wear vests and both men were given tasers and would be wielding their truncheons at the ready.

As further precaution a decoy room was set up, so John was safely out of the way. In fact he was safely on opposite wing that the decoy room was set on.

It was just a waiting game now, and the younger Holmes found patience to be one of his greatest enemies. That's what he had John for, to keep him grounded to remind him to be still and wait.

He darkly thought of John's sister. He wanted her to go but she decided to stay with John, and of course refused a vest.

He didn't know if he should feel irritated or relieved that she would stay, not about the vest. He could care less the woman was spoiled and self centered, he wouldn't have thought twice if she never came to visit. Except he knew it was what John wanted, sentiment. That and he remembered vaguely reading somewhere that being surrounded by loved ones and by family accelerated the healing process.

Yes, John needed to be well enough to come home. Sherlock knew his friend hated hospitals he would feel more comfortable recuperating on the couch watching crap telly. Listening to Sherlock complain about Lestrade. Well at least Sherlock would be at ease as soon as John returned to the flat and did all those things. It felt so cold and empty without his friend, this emptiness reminded him of the three years exiled from his friends-and even Mycroft.

His eyes snapped int focus, pushing his thoughts of John back into a room in his mind palace. Instead he found it, there it was the detail anyone would easily miss, the orderly bringing up a cart of supplies, he wasn't wearing the correct shoes and Sherlock's keen eye observed wrinkles in the center of the man's scrub top. Ah, a fight, one that ended in this man taking the scrubs off another. The Game was on.


	11. THE CAUTION

**CHAPTER 11. THE CAUTION**

Clarke and Stone listened over the high tech ear pieces that bird with the blackberry had equipped them with. As far as they could tell one of the would be assassins was being apprehended as predicted. They eased a little, shooting looks towards John's sister. Who only rolled her eyes in annoyance, neither officer would apologize for the actions they had taken to get her there. Somehow they knew she was well aware of this.

"Well mates looks like the government guys get to have all the fun." DI Lestrade sounded relieved on his end of the ear piece.

"Yeah. Oh well, they do have their fancy equipment and what not. It's almost not fair that they just gave us vests and a taser, I was hoping to get a gun."

" Ricky, no one in their right fuckin mind will give you a gun, you'd shoot yourself."

"No-"

"Boys. That's enough get off the frequency. It's all clear." DI Lestrade's gravely voice cut the bickering short before it started to snow ball.

"Well those boys do work pretty fast. Angelo brought up some more food. I say we deserve a plate." Stone smiled patting his belly.

"Cant argue with you there. You go first. I'll stay here."

"They did give us the all clear." Stone reminded.

"Yeah.-" Clarke bit the inside of his cheek shooting a worried look over at the somewhat conscious Doctor, and his witch of a sister.

"I got ya Clarke. Well I bring you a plate back. Miss. Watson how about you?" she shook her head and he started out the door. Clarke leaned against the wall fiddling with his vest straps. The sound of gun shots made him jump.

At the same time his ear piece buzzed with an agents voice. "It's not him! It was a distraction!"

"Shit!" he heard the DI's voice hiss in his ear piece "Two! Armed. Where are the-"

John's sister was standing up nervously her face pale, there were more shots just outside but closer.

"Stone?" Clarke whispered into his ear piece waiting for a response.

"Yeah-" Came the slow reply. "I see them, three guys. Bastards are dressed like Janitors. How the hell did they get by? They are trading fire out here with two of the government boys. I'm just across the hall, in the utility closet, left the door open so I can get a jump on them."

"Stay put, tell me you have your vest on still."

"Yeah, almost took it off. Good thing I was more hungry then uncomfortable."

"DI?" Clarke ignored Stone's attempt at small talk.

"Be ready, we aren't getting anywhere here. They-shit! The elevator!" the DI's voice was loud. Stone and Clarke could guess that the two shooters were part of the distraction as well just to occupy the front desk agents.

"Two more coming down the hall tell me you boys are still with the Watsons."

"Yes sir. Clarke is." Stone was talking quickly.

Clarke was pulling the monitor's little sticky electrodes from the doctor not carrying that alarms on the machines started going off. "We have to get you both in the bathroom, I need you to barricade yourselves in and not come out until someone tells you." Doctor from the bed, his iv still attached they needed to get in the bathroom.

"Doc, can you walk?"

"Clarke?" his head bobbed.

"Come on Doc, I know this hurts, cant be helped." Just as Clarke closed the small bathroom door he heard Stone's frantic whisper.

"Be ready here they come, just two, running now. Only handguns, but they have vests on under there coveralls."

"Got it." Clarke dimmed the lights he held his truncheon, positioned himself knowing the door would be flung open and one or both men would have their guns out, it would be easier to use a truncheon to disarm them, a blow to the head or to the back of the leg, he would make it count and would definitely make it hurt.

"Alright here they come." Stone whispered Clarke waited the door flung open he staid behind it, the gunman didn't wait the idiot had his arm aiming at the bed he fired, his eyes not adjusted to the dark yet, he hadn't noticed the bed was empty and the damn alarms on the machines were going off.

Ample opportunity Clarke tightened his hold on the truncheon it was already extended and ready at his side, he brought up his left arm extended, palm facing the suspect, right arm raised shoulder level his truncheon flicked back over his right shoulder, all this in a matter of seconds, finally with all the force in him he brought that truncheon forward coming down hard on the mans arm the one holding the weapon, Clarke felt the crack rather than heard it, but from experience he knew he broke the a bone, and felt no remorse over it.

"Stand Still!" he ordered at the swearing and yelling suspect, the goon flopped around on the floor holding his arm to him breathing heavily. "You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say will be taken down and used against you in a court of law,  
You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense, if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court,  
Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Now that said, I bet that hurts." He patted the guy down. "I'm no doctor but I know it's broken. Now I advice you to stay still or I'll gladly break the other one." Clarke kicked the gun across the room. Pulling the idiot to his feet, he heard Stone outside say it was clear, he had a nice gash on his cheek.

"You need better practice." Clarke shook his head.

"What?" The other office panted, holding the now restrained man.

"Who taught you how to swing a truncheon?"

"Hey! I would have had him, but the bastard moved just when I swung. I'm sure I broke his ribs, how insulting he wasn't even wearing a vest. Anyway who are you to talk?"

"What do you mean? Use your eyes you idiot. Look. I broke an arm."

"I wont believe it until I see an x-ray. Looks bruised to me."

"Fuck off, it's broken." The Italian growled still trying to catch his breathe and stay ahead of the pain.

"See." Clarke was straightened his shoulders proudly.

"He's not a doctor that doesn't count. You know this is exactly why I don't ride with you anymore."

"No. You don't ride with me because of the tear gas incident."

"Oh, god that again! Cant you drop it?"

"You set off tear gas, you could have killed us."

"You're so over dramatic Clarke. Tear gas doesn't kill."

"Yeah right. When your partner is driving it could!"

"Alright, alright!" Lestrade was breathing heavy he looked relieved.

"I guess you government boys can take em from here." Stone and Clarke grinned easily.

"Yeah boys, we don't mind doing all the heavy lifting." This gained several glares.

"Not bad for a couple boys from the Yard." Lestrade clapped a hand on the two officer's backs. Sherlock was standing there rolling his eyes, but his shoulders weren't so stiff until he looked to the door of John's room.

"What the hell is all the noise?" John growled weakly, so it was more of a groan, Harry was looking pale.

"I tried to keep him in the bathroom he wont listen. I didnt want him to hurt himself. I figured it was all clear after I heard the officer giving that man the caution."

"Everything just seems so much nicer from here." John murmured sinking against his sister.

"Stubborn bastard." Lestrade growled, both he and Sherlock went to help his friend back to bed, pausing at the ruined bed.

"That-that officer had us hide in the bathroom." Harry shakily stated pointing to Clarke. "Or that would have been John."

"It was all I could think of." Clarke rubbed the back of his head, expecting some kind of reprimand, except Sherlock only nodded in approval.

"Good job Clarke, as I've always said you are slightly more intelligent then the rest of the idiots at the yard."

"Thanks I think." Clarke shook his head.

"Oi!" Stone and Lestrade objected.

Sally interrupted unknowingly, as she escorted a nurse and two orderlies bringing in a cot to move John rooms, seeing how the one they were in was destroyed.

"Good job men." She smiled brightly.

"He'll be fine." The nurse reassured Harry who held tight to her brothers hand as they started to wheel him out. "Looks like the stitches held, he'll be fine as long as we get him to sit still." The nurse was trying to push John's shoulders back on the bed but he was insisting on sitting up.

"Johnny you heard the lady, lay down."

"But-"

"No. Lay down and quit moving." Harry ordered in a tone that all big sisters used on obstinate little brothers.

She squeezed his hand, turning to look over her shoulder at the officers in the hall, slapping each others backs and shaking hands.

"Johnny you've made some interesting friends." Harry smiled tightly at her younger brother. They'd given him a shot of pain medicine he was smiling again, she wondered what he was seeing.

If she could see what he saw it would be a group of soldiers in military fatigues, congratulating over a mission accomplished. Sherlock was following his stretcher? Cot? The same bored expression on his face, straightening his gray and black uniform. And not to mention the General standing off to the side as John was wheeled to his new room.

"General." John smiled half saluting he heard Sherlock sigh heavily, knowing without looking he was rolling his eyes. "He always did have a problem with authority." John whispered loudly to the General who despite himself held a fleeting grin. Or at least John thought he had, but after all it had to be a dream, Mycroft Holmes did not smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS TO JOHNSARMYLADY FOR THE INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW TO USE A TRUNCHEON...I WANT ONE NOW, IT SOUNDS LIKE FUN. ON A SIDE NOTE THE TEAR GAS INCIDENT WAS ACTUALLY INSPIRED BY WHAT WE LIKE TO CALL THE GREAT PEPPER SPRAY INCIDENT OF 2009 WHERE SOMETHING SIMILAR HAPPENED BUT WITH MACE AND NOT TEAR GAS. FUN TIMES. THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!


	12. THE EPILOGUE

**THE EPILOGUE**

"It seems you will never be short on several things Doctor Watson." Doctor Royce handed him the medical chart to look over.

"What's that?" John looked up.

"Luck, good friends and family." This brought a smile to John's face, he was going home today, he was sore but feeling better than he should after the week he had.

"I wouldn't say lucky. I think I've been shot at and shot more as a civilian than back in Afghanistan." Doctor Royce gave a nervous smile.

Sherlock bustled into the room looking around hurriedly. "John, I'll carry your things. Mycroft has a car waiting for us. His way of saying I'm sorry."

"Sherlock he has nothing to be-I hope you aren't guilt tripping him."

"He almost killed you."

"No, some cartel members who are now all in custody tried to kill me. And I don't really have things." John's eyes narrowed on his friend. " What's going on Sherlock?"

"Ah, Doctor Watson!" Hanna breezed into the room, Harry stood off to the side watching in amusement as Sherlock looked like a trapped animal. "I'm so glad we didn't miss you. We've brought you some more biscuits." She flashed an easy smile at Sherlock.

"Oh, look Stella it's your uncle Sherlock." The baby had started to fuss and to Harry's surprise and joy the squirming infant was thrust into the Detectives arms. She took out her phone discreetly snapping a picture, the look on his face was priceless. Definitely Christmas card worthy. She'd send it to that government bloke, Sherlock's brother, it's the best she could do as a thank you.

"I just got this laundered." He grumbled but the short red head didn't catch it or ignored it. She smiled brightly placing the basket on the empty chair near the Doctor's bed. He was sitting up fully dressed waiting on the last of his discharge papers.

"So, Doc. Ricky wanted me to ask you since you're laid up for a while if it just wouldn't be easier to have the poker game at your flat."

" I think he's hoping your landlady will supply the snacks. Freeloader." Hanna glared at her husband.

Harry couldn't believe the same man who took out a gun wielding thug was shrinking inward under his wife's cool glare. Sherlock gave an uncomfortable cough, causing everyone to turn in his direction.

The fussing baby was quiet, her deep blue eyes wide and staring at the man who held her out like he were inspecting a bit of bad fruit.

"It stinks." He stated.

"Oh, no. Clarke I think she has a dirty nappy." Hanna gestured for her husband to collect the baby.

"Sorry mate." The officer scooped up his child also holding her out like a bit of rotten fruit and disappearing. Sherlock however was pulling his coat off while Hanna spoke briskly and said a quick goodbye, the sounds of a crying infant echoed down the hall.

"Why is it that child feels the need to be sick on my coat every time. It's nobody else. Just me! It's like she holds it in, anticipating our next meeting. And it stinks of sour."

"Sherlock don't be silly."

"I must get this laundered, I'll meet you at home, I'm sure Harry can find the place." Harry didn't get a chance to reply before he was storming out of the room holding his coat away from him. "Mrs. HUDSON!" he yelled.

**~The end**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR THE FOLLOWS AND THE REVIEWS. TO ALL THE GUEST REVIEWERS THIS MEANS YOU TOO. AS ALWAYS IT'S BEEN FUN-MARY


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